


Colours

by Demixian



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Fluff, colours au, cute fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demixian/pseuds/Demixian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor McKinley has  been told so many times what colours are. His mother and father have, on multiple occasions, talked about the ‘magnolia’ walls and the ‘tangerine' carpet, but all Connor heard were the names of trees and fruits, and no specific colour came to mind. Why do people need names for different kinds of the same colour? It just makes it more confusing. Especially when you can't see them for yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lil happy fic for my good friend Sach's birthday present! :D Hope you guys all enjoy it too. Sorry if there are any typos, had to type this whole thing up quickly so I could get it to Sach in time. :D

Connor McKinley hasbeen told so many times what colours are. His mother and father have, on multiple occasions, talked about the ‘magnolia’ walls and the ‘tangerine' carpet, but all Connor heard were the names of trees and fruits, and no specific colour came to mind. Why do people need names for different kinds of the same colour? It just makes it more confusing. Especially when you can't see them for yourself.

 

He knows he isn’t the only one, however. In fact, most kids he knew in elementary school would complain about the lack of colour and how their teacher’s casual comments about the colour of somebody’s trainers or shirt flew over their heads.

 

However, when he went to high school, people claimed to be suddenly seeing colours every other week. Connor, along with a couple other kids in his grade, never felt this feeling.

 

When his mother’s sister, Jo, would come over to their house to stay for a night or two, she would grumble and moan constantly about how dull her life is, angrily complaining that her sister is “God’s favourite” and constantly scrutinizing her for gushing about the drapes and how pretty that ‘coral orange’ looks on Jo.

 

Jo still has a chance to see colours, however, unlike Connor’s grandmother, who has told him the story of what happened to his grandpa during the war many times, recounting the moment her whole world went grey. She always described it like this: ‘It was like somebody was sucking the world of its saturation, the colours didn’t simply blip out of existence, they were drained.”

 

Connor used to whine to his parents repeatedly about the fact that he still couldn’t see the colours they had promised to him when they first told him about them even at seventeen-years-old. He stopped after a while, after his father snapped and suggested that maybe he hasn’t seen colours yet because he doesn’t have a soulmate and maybe he should just go and do his homework and not bother them anymore. And then his mother whacked his father on the arm, hissing that everybody has a soulmate, and not to say those things to his son.

 

Connor’s friend, Liza, told him all about colours she started seeing when she met Casey. She described how red can either be an angry colour or sexy colour (which left Connor a bit confused. How can a colour be a ‘sexy’ colour?), blue is a cold, sad colour (again — how can a colour _feel_ like anything when it’s a solely visual entity?) and green is weird, funny colour. Connor appreciated her efforts to explain all the colours to him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t picture what she meant, and it almost felt as if she was trying to tell him that red apples are meant to be angry…or sexually appealing.

 

One time, Connor got a large box full of candies, and one of the little packets had the words ‘Parma Violets’ printed on the wrapping. Connor knew that ‘Violet’ is a shade of purple, and he assumed that the sweets were meant to be that colour. He ate a few of them after supper when he got back up to his room. They had a flowery, lavender taste. He decided that this is what purple tastes like.

 

Connor was told at a very young age just why he can’t see colours. The same reason why nobody at that age can see colours. The only people who have the leisure of such are thing are those who have found their significant other — their soulmate, perhaps.

 

As he reads the letter in his hands — one that his mother has lovingly hand-written in her best handwriting —, Connor plays a game of trying to figure out whether she’s used blue or black ink by comparing it to the wall, which he has been told is meant to be blue.

 

The sound of the front door handle turning makes his ears prick up, and he immediately retreats behind the wall. The other mormon elders there with him all worriedly go silent, probably all sharing Connor’s fear — it could be the General. General Butt Fucking Naked has been threatening to pay them a visit for a while. Connor’s heart skips a beat as the door opens.

 

He tenuously leans ever-so-slightly out from behind the wall, catching sight of somebody. Two people stand there, a squat, bespectacled one, and a taller one, with oak brown hair and large, piercingly green eyes that seem to glow, and a look of curiosity etched on his face, and mildly tanned skin and—

 

Colours.

 

Connor can see colours.


End file.
